For The Love Of The Game
by Caz Malfoy
Summary: Crossover with CSI:Miami. Danny celebrates the outcome of the Italy vs France world cup final. SLASH!


_Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:NY, Miami or the world cup._

For The Love Of The Game

There were times that Tim thought Danny was so Italian that he bled red, white and green.

The way that his Staten Island accent deepened with an Italian lilt when he was tired, scared, upset or horny.

The way Italian syllables fell off of his tongue with the greatest ease, as though he had only just stepped off of a plane at JFK and not lived in New York for the entire thirty three years he had been alive.

The way he mumbled in Italian while he slept.

Everything. Everything about Danny Messer was pure blood Italian.

But despite everything he knew about Danny, Tim never expected to come home to find the New York CSI coming out of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of popcorn and a beer, wearing an Italian soccer jersey.

"Did I miss something?" Tim asked in confusion.

Danny looked as offended as he would if Tim had just stated that baseball was just a sport. "You're shitting me, right?" Danny asked in astonishment. "It's the final," he added, indicating to the television which was showing Italian and French players, standing on the pitch with their arms linked across each other's shoulders.

"How could I forget?" Tim asked, throwing his jacket over the chair and slumping down on the couch next to Danny. "Everytime I pass a store front there's some kind of soccer merchandise staring right back at me. I just never figured you as a soccer fan. Baseball, yeah sure. But soccer?" he shook his head.

"This isn't just soccer," Danny argued.

"I don't remember you getting this excited about soccer when the US was playing," Tim commented.

"That's because I'm not American," Danny rolled his blue eyes. "I'm Italian," he reminded his lover.

"Right, so you've just decided to go out and buy yourself an Italian jersey just because they've got to the final?"

"Of course not," Danny assured him. "I've had this all along," he added, just as the referee blew the whistle, signalling the start of the match. It wasn't long before Tim realised that everytime he opened his mouth to say something, he would be immediately shushed.

The instant Italy scored Danny was on his feet, with his arms in the air, yelling, "Wohoo!" at the top of his lungs.

After what felt like an eternity for Tim, who wasn't a fan of any sport, the match was over and the score was still level, meaning that the outcome of the match would be decided by penalties.

Each time an Italian player stepped up to the ball to take a shot at goal, Danny turned to Tim and buried his face in Tim's shoulder; unable to watch.

When the final penalty was taken, Danny lifted his head and looked at Tim in amazement. "We won?" he whispered.

Tim laughed and nodded his head. "Wohoo!" Danny cried, jumping to his feet and doing what Tim had dubbed his 'happy dance'. Tim was still laughing when Danny finished his dance and situated himself on Tim's lap. "We won," he whispered, putting his hands on Tim's shoulders and looking into the other man's brown eyes.

"I know. I was watching it as well," Tim reminded him gently, his hands going to rest on Danny's slim hips.

Danny grinned and leant forward, kissing Tim passionately. As Danny slid closer to him, Tim could feel that Danny was already hard.

Tim pulled away from Danny gasping for breath. "Who knew that watching soccer could turn you on so much," he smirked.

Danny grinned back at him. "It's not soccer that turns me on," he replied, "it's you," he added, nibbling on Tim's earlobe before sliding off of Tim's lap and landing gracefully on the floor between Tim's legs.

Danny pushed Tim's knees apart and quickly unfastened Tim's jeans. He licked his lips hungrily when he pushed aside Tim's underwear and his hard cock sprang free.

Tim gasped in surprise then moaned in pleasure when Danny ducked, sucking the head of Tim's cock into his mouth. Tim's left hand grasped at the couch cushions, desperate for something to hold on to, as he felt Danny's tongue swirl around him as the other New Yorker took more of Tim's cock into his mouth. Tim's right hand went to bury itself in Danny's bleached blond hair guiding Danny down, not forcing but encourging him.

Danny chuckled around Tim as his left hand cupped Tim's ball. Tim clutched tightly at Danny's other hand, interlacing their fingers as he came with a shout, shooting himself down Danny's throat. Danny eagerly swallowed every drop, savouring the salty taste, before getting up and straddling Tim's lap once more.

Tim reached behind Danny's head, pulling him closer and devouring his mouth, tasting himself on the blond's tongue.

As they kissed Tim pushed down Danny sweat-pants and grasped his hard cock. His free hand slid down Danny's back, kneading his ass in time with his strokes. Danny pulled away from Tim gasping for breath as he felt Tim gently push a finger inside him, instantly finding the sensative bundle of nerves that were hidden inside him.

A few alternating strokes of his prostate and cock pushed Danny over the edge and he came with a loud shout, spraying pearly white fluid all over Tim's shirt.

"Oh god," Danny breathed, falling forwards and burying his face in Tim's shoulder. "You've gotta love soccer."

For once, Tim found himself agreeing that maybe watching sports had it's perks after all.

The End


End file.
